


Bob

by AaNnYyCcHhOoUu



Series: Millagh... Naaah! [4]
Category: Shameless (Podcast), Shameless (US), Shameless (US) RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Caring Mickey Milkovich, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Lip Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich Friendship, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Sex, Sex Toys, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AaNnYyCcHhOoUu/pseuds/AaNnYyCcHhOoUu
Summary: Ian and Mickey have been happily married, and parents to 3 great kids. They live close to family and are simply put happy. But loose ends need to to be tied and it sets motion to more pain, again! Will they ever be happy with no complications?This is the epilogue of the Millagh... Naaah! series. Although I hope you'd enjoy this story on it's own, I can only advise to read the previous stories in this instalment to have a full understanding.There will be 5 chapters to tis story and some angst to come before this all ends happily ;-)Hope you enjoy, please leave Kudos and Comments, this is always appreciated^^Thanks for taking this journey with me!PS: This is unbetaed
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Millagh... Naaah! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783597
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story starts 10 years after the end of Bernie. Let's explore grown up Gallaghers and Milkoviches moving well into their 30s.
> 
> Let's meet a grown up next generation of Gallaghers and Milkoviches.
> 
> Comments and Kudos always appreciated, this is my fuel ^^

The girl dove in the bush headfirst, not caring much about the thorns tearing her clothes, or even her arms and thighs. She had a goal, could see it, and made sure she’d reach it.

The goal of the fierce redhead fighting her way through side of the road bushes was a no less fierce ginger stray kitten, with giant blue eyes. The 10-year-old had chased the wild animal for three blocks, she was now sure to grab it. She needed to grab it. The symmetry alone. She got really quiet, laying in the dirt, praying, her blue eyes meeting the animal’s slightly different shade of blue. And then, swiftly, mimicking the wild animals in the documentaries her dads loved so much, she made her move.

The feline put up a hell of a fight, paws scratching at the hand trying to grab him by the back of his neck, hissing and meowing as if fighting for dear life, which by all account he probably thought he was.

But Monica Sandy Gallagher was nothing if not relentless. She tried to grab the frightened kitten, again and again until the animal simply gave up, accepting its own fate.

The girl roughly pulled the cat out of the bush and folded her arms around him in a protective manner. The animal tried to escape a few more times before resigning to a destiny as pet and snuggling into Monica’s elbow crook. That exact moment would come down in history as when she fell in love with Bob Gallagher.

Mon had it all figured out. She couldn’t bring bob home (because she had decided his name was bob), due to how tensed it was right now. She decided on her papa’s office in Uncle Lip’s house. He had not been there since he got sick. And most likely won’t be there for a while. The cat would have space to play there. She just had to walk pass uncle Lip and then would get Freddy to help her when he’d get back from his mom’s. The house seemed empty; uncle Lip was probably at work. The girl held the scared cat tighter as she opened the door. She knew she didn’t need a key as all the Gallagher’s houses on the block were always open.

Uncle Carl said that since the gentrition or genfritaction or something like that, they didn’t need to lock their doors anymore.

Bernie explained that the reason they didn’t need to lock their houses was because they were Milkoviches. That she understood because she knew it was her daddy’s name before he and papa got married. It was also the name of Franny, Darren, Jeremy and Angie. That much she knew too. So, she just assumed that Milkoviches were respected people that no one wanted to disturb. And well, why don’t we let the girl think that after all, things are complicated enough at the moment, no need to crush her beliefs.

Yev and Liam, had also said there was no reason to lock their doors since Frank had disappeared a few years back. She doesn’t remember Frank, but daddy said that it was a good thing he was gone. And her daddy was always right!

The fierce redhead entered the house resolute and made her way to the door leading to the office, the cat fighting half-heartedly in her grip.

“Hey, Mon, what you doin’ here?” She started at the sound of uncle Lip’s voice, tightening her hold on the kitten. The meowing became more frantic and the girl tried to cover it with a cough, making Lip smile in the process.

“Hi, uncle Lip, I thought I was staying here tonight.” She really thought this lie would work. The unwavering confidence of kids and all. Well, it didn’t.

“No, tonight you’re supposed to stay at aunt Debbie and uncle Ig. And where is the cat supposed to stay?” There was no point arguing anymore but knowing that she might have to let Bob go, threw the girl into an emotional state that surprised her. But not her uncle.

Lip pulled the sobbing kid in his arms and told her all about how the cat would stay with him and Freddy until she could bring him home. He pulled out of the embrace so he could pick the terrified cat and drop him on the kitchen counter where Freddy’s cat bowl was. Sure enough, the animal made a beeline to the milk bowl and feast his soul. The Gallagher looked at his dishevelled niece, trying to look strong and sniffing through the reminder of her sobs.

“Ok, kiddo, you can stay here tonight. Freddy is coming back from Tami’s in about 3h. So, in the meantime you can stay here and look after, erm… cat got a name yet?” “Bob,” she said wiping her face with her sleeve. Lip didn’t even ask why she called him Bob. Not when his son decided to name their male cat Barbara. No judgement there. And the cat really didn’t care.

“Ok, I got to go run an errand. You’ll be ok?” He only made his way to the door when the girl nodded. “And make sure the cat doesn’t piss anywhere, k?” Her uncle shouted as he exited the house. And with that Monica realised that she would probably have to clean it up, disgust now showing on her freckled face.

As soon as he was out the door, Lip pulled out his phone, quickly scrolled through his contact list and brought his phone to his hear as he searched his pocket for his car keys.

“Hey, you home?” He opened his car, jumped in a hurry.

“Look, we gotta talk to Mickey, Mon just had a fucking break down. And I think she ditched school to rescue a stray cat!” 

“Yeah, I wanted to call you too, Carl told me Ian scared him last night, he actually felt the need to hide the knives.” Debbie was half shouting on the phone, so much so that her brother had to move the device away from his hear. All the while shifting the gear in rear to get the car out of the driveway

“Shit, someone with him right now?”

“Yeah, Ig and the twins, come get me, I’m ready already.”

*

Mickey extracted himself from the coach in his office, cracked his tattooed knuckles, then his shoulders, his back, his neck. The fucking couch did a number on his body, but he couldn’t resolve on getting an apartment, or even a motel room. At least not yet. He had expected to have the full force of the Gallagher clan intervening on him much earlier. But then maybe they agreed with Ian. He still felt his actions were justified however what everyone thought. The short man slowly made his way to the minibar, opened it a little more forcefully than needed and grabbed a beer. It was the first time in such a long while that he was separated from Ian that he was not really sure what to do with himself even after six fucking months.

It also was the first time in forever that he was not leaving with his kids, and that was killing him even more. He had reassured Bernie and Yev when they had called. Thank fuck they were away. He was not sure how he could have dealt with all them here. Already, seeing the sad look on Mon’s face when he would pick her up from school or spend the day with her and then drop her back home. She didn’t understand and he didn’t know how to explain. All he knew was it was messing with her. And Ian had been abundantly clear he didn’t want him in the house, he made sure to respect his husband’s wishes no matter how hard it was. So, he decided to limit their contact for the time being. It had made him sick. Like literally sick to his stomach.

And he wasn’t even sure he was doing the right thing. He realised he was lost without Ian. And by all accounts, if Ian wouldn’t take him back, he’d just remain lost. No need for him to find his way back to a world without his husband.

The knock on the door startled him. He knew who that was, snorted at the fact that he had expected that knock for more than two months now. No, he had actually been hoping for that knock. His painful way back to Ian. But somehow, now that the moment had arrived, he felt scared. What if Ian effectively refused to hear him out? He had before, that’s how their whole life ended up so far down the fucking trash.

Mickey opened the door without a word and wobbly made his way back to the couch, slouching on it barely seated enough to awkwardly sip through his beer.

“Hey Mick,”

“So, it’s intervention time? Like in a fuckin’ sitcom?” He tried to render his fit humoristic, but it only came out as sad. The pathetic of the whole situation extracted a chuckle out of it. Mickey Milkovich, successful owner of a mostly legal business, loving husband and proud father of three (he could have added pillar of the community, but who was he kidding, really?). Mickey Milkovich prostrate on his makeshift bed, half drunk and so fucking lonely was about to get a hear full by Lip and worst of all by Debbie. Debbie was like a dog with a bone, she would bark at you, at first. And when that didn’t work, then the worst would come, she’d come at you every day until you surrendered would even become violent if she needed to, or felt like it. And provided that he had badly hurt Ian, she would most likely feel like hitting the shit out of him. Mickey wasn’t afraid to admit (to himself only) she scared him a little. He loved her too. That, he wouldn’t admit, although she knew it only by the way he’d behave.

Fact was she had always reminded him of Mandy. When his sister was still living with Lip, Debbie and she were deadly. They actually came in handy when hormone-filled south-side teenager Yev acted up a few years back.

Mickey felt his inside churn, just thinking he might have lost all that.

“It’s bad Mick,” the dog wasn’t barking. Mickey felt cold suddenly. Was it that bad?

“Man, you know you’re the only one that can reach to him when he’s like that. It’s getting out of control.” Lip grabbed a cigarette and lit it, quickly striding to the open window to exhale the smoke of his first puff. Mickey didn’t react, used to having his friend smoke in his office. Actually craving one too, only to realise he had run out earlier. The man he was actually proud to call his best friend, must have noticed, in quick steps he reached the couch all the while lighting a new cigarette that he handed to the brunette. Blue eyes met for a short moment.

“Carl had to hide the knives yesterday, and Mon ditched school. You need to get this shit under control, my man.”

“You know it ain’t that easy, Lip, he was pretty fuckin’ clear that if I went t Mexico I shouldn’t come back.”

“Yeah, but now he needs you, Mick so you should move your ass and go help your husband.” There was no bite in the words, only stress in Debbie’s voice. And that scared the shit out of Mickey.

“What makes you think he’s even gonna let me in, Gallaghers aren’t famous for being the forgiving kind.” He chuckled at how true that was.

“One, because there’s nothing to forgive, you did what you had to do, right?” Mickey looked at his sister-in-law and nodded faintly. All of them knowing that if it wasn’t for his illness, Ian would have been pissed off for sure, but he would have come around it at one point. He would have made him work for it like hell, would have fucking withheld sex or some shit, but he would have forgiven. No, not forgiven, forgotten.

“And two, it’s you and Ian, you gonna make it through it, Mickey. But he won’t if he’s alone,” Mickey shot her a look at that. Why was she saying that?

“Look,” Lip sat next to him, on his fucking pillow the asshole. “It’s gotten too bad for us to handle Mick. I don’t even know if you can do anything. Maybe we should have him… hospitalised for a while.” He deadpanned Mickey, knowing full well what he was doing. “You’re his husband, so you can sign him in against his will.”

He knew, the fucker, of course he knew that a spark would ignite in Mickey’s heart at the mention of Ian being committed.

“I’ll pop in this afternoon, see if I can get through to him. Where’s Monica?” He tried to appear detached, all business-like. He wasn’t fooling anyone, not even himself.

“She’s sleeping at mine tonight, Freddy’s back, they’ll keep each other company.” Lip said it as he followed Debbie out. No need for formality, the siblings knew that despite his words, Mickey would run to his car as soon as they were gone. Only hoping that it wasn’t too late.

*

Fifteen seconds, that’s all it took for Mickey to feel tears fall down his cheeks when he entered the room. The air was crooked, the stench coming from the bed was terrible.

“We open the window every day, but that’s not enough anymore.” Ig startled him, he turned around to look at him and that’s when he saw it. A pack of adult diapers, resting by his bedside table.

“Fuck!” Tears were flowing freely now, and anger had made its way to his brain full force. He was just not sure if he was angry with Ig and co, himself, Ian or just fucking fate for the hand it dealt them.

“He refuses to get up now. And to eat too.” He grabbed high protein bars on the nightstand to back up his point. “We have to force feed him that and Debbie and Lip are dealing with the fucking nappies. It’s bad.” He stopped abruptly, watching Mickey melt down in front of him. Not knowing what to do. He felt the urge to hug his brother, but they had never demonstrated that kind of brotherly love before, so he stood there, fidgeting.

“I told Debs he should be in hospital, but Lip and she refused, saying you wouldn’t want that. But…”

“Get out,”

“Mick!”

“Just… please!” There was no heat, just despair in his voice. Iggy backed up slowly and closed the door behind him. Scolding himself for not hugging his brother after all.

In the room, Mickey saw the sheets move just the slightest. Proof that Ian was awake. He quickly did his clothes down and carefully moved into the bed.

At first, he just laid down, doing his best to not touch Ian, despite wanting to with every fibre of his body and soul. In the silence of the room a tenuous sob caught his attention. When he understood what it was, he threw caution to the wind and threw himself against his husband’s back, trying as best he could to disregard the fucking nappy. He wrapped his left arm around Ian’s shoulder and slid the right one under his head, effectively pulling him into his arms. He peppered his neck with sweet sweet small kisses as the sobs became more erratic eventually turning into wails.

They laid there for hours, Mickey turning down every knock on the door with his signature FUCK OFF. He ignored cigarette cravings, hunger, and even his basic needs for relief. There was no way he was letting go of Ian. If he had to wear one of these fucking adult diapers, then so be it. He held Ian in his arms until the sobs disappeared, his arms became numb, but he didn’t move, letting sleep come for the two of them. Tomorrow was going to be a big day, tomorrow he was giving his husband his dignity back.

“Morning, babe.” Ian sighed at those words he had been craving for so long and slowly moved his head in Mickey’s armpit crook.

“Today we take a bath and change the fucking linen. I’m no fucking Aggie Mackenzy but that’s bad dude!” He said as he shifted to get up.

“Don’t leave me!” The scream was raw due to weeks of not speaking, the sobs were loud. Mickey had not even reached the door yet, but in one swift movement he jumped back onto the bed, grabbed Ian by the shoulders and pulled him in his arms.

“’M not goin’ anywhere babe.” He relaxed against the wall and grabbed his phone on the bedside table yanking on the chord to unplug it. In a few experienced click he got into the family whatsapp conversation and started typing.

**Mick** – Who downstairs?

 **Carl** – Me

 **Mick** – K, we gonna take bath, can u change bed?

 **Carl** – Sure

 **Liam** – How is he?

 **Mick** – And get rid of the fuckig diaper swhile you @it b4 I get rid of whoever had the fuckin idea!

Mick knew he shouldn’t be upset with them. He also knew his last sentence would most likely be upsetting. But he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. Sure enough, though, a text came soon after.

Lip / 10:18 – Come on man, what other choice did we have? Please apologize to Debbie, she feels fucking bad enough as it is!

Mickey / 10:19 – I’ll apologize when my husb is better.

Mick threw his phone haphazardly on the bed and tried to sit Ian up, but the man was a dead weight in his arms, groaning at every movement. The shorter man was nothing if not focused. They would be having a bath and a change of linen today, no matter what. He got up, eliciting a whine from the other man. Reaching the other side of the bed, he squatted, rested his knees on the side of the mattress, pulled the heap that was Ian by the arms and threw him over his shoulder. He braced himself and stood up, holding the taller man like a potato bag. And fuck he was heavy. If he hadn’t gathered why the Gallaghers had resorted to diapers and protein bars, he understood now. It would take no less than Kevin Ball to move Ian around. And Mickey knew that given their professional partnership, Ian would have been really upset to let Kev give him a sponge bath. He would have been pretty fucking annoyed too if Kevin fucking giant Ball had manhandled his husband. That was his job!

Ignoring the NOs drowned in sobs coming out of his man, he staggered out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, collapsing under the weight on his shoulder.

As delicately as he could, he dropped Ian on the floor by the door and started to draw the bath, adding as much of Bernie girly bath products as he could under the running water. With time, he had learned how much the sensory experience was important to bring Ian back from his funk. The guy had a thing for smell. That’s why he’d let him smell him whenever he wanted. When he turned around to look at the sobbing heap on the floor, he couldn’t help but wonder if this would be remotely enough this time.

Mickey undressed and proceeded to do the same for his husband, not an easy task with the giant raggedy doll slouched against the door. He pulled Ian into the bath, no doubt hurting him in the process, but the man didn’t say anything.

He sat behind him in the tub, letting Ian rest against his chest. Peppering him with soft kisses and massaging his skull.

The next bath two days later had been somewhat easier. Ian was a little more reactive. Accepting to be carried to the toilets when need came. Just a little, still Mickey took it as a victory.

The redhead wouldn’t let go of him, though, crying every time his husband would leave the room, if only for a short moment.

He was eating more too, even a real meal on day four. When Ian opened the mouth to let the spoon full of pasta in, Mickey smiled wildly. Before he gathered more in the utensil, he sprang out of the bed and made a show of throwing the protein bars away. Was it the premise of a smile he saw in the corner of Ian’s mouth? He decided it was. It gave him hope if it was.

Ian took for ever to swallow each portion of food, but it was alright, Mickey had learned long ago to be patient.

The next day, he brought the pills up with dinner. Looking at Ian intently, smiling again when he saw the imperceptible nod.

It took time for Ian to speak too. Outside of NOs and DON’T LEAVE MEs there was only groans and wailings escaping his mouth. Until day 7. They were both sleeping in each other’s arms. Well, Mickey was sleeping, Ian was watching him. His eyes wandering over every detail of his calm face. Mickey always seemed calm when he was sleeping. Ian kissed him as gently as possible.

Mickey’s mind alert mode startled awoke even at the gentle touch of Ian’s lips against his. They looked at each other for a while. And there it was, the spark of life in green eyes. They were not out of the woods yet, they both knew it, but it would eventually get better from now on.

“I’m sorry,” the voice was still raw, and somewhat lifeless. Mickey felt a ping in his heart at the hurt of it.

“I’m sorry more, babe.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey have been happily married, and parents to 3 great kids. They live close to family and are simply put happy. But loose ends need to to be tied and it sets motion to more pain, again! Will they ever be happy with no complications?
> 
> This is the epilogue of the Millagh... Naaah! series. Although I hope you'd enjoy this story on it's own, I can only advise to read the previous stories in this instalment to have a full understanding.
> 
> There will be 5 chapters to this story and some angst to come before this all ends happily ;-)
> 
> Hope you enjoy, please leave Kudos and Comments, this is always appreciated^^
> 
> Thanks for taking this journey with me!
> 
> PS: This is unbetaed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> So this chapter is full of angst and I am sorry, but Ian finally gets to accept Mickey's past!
> 
> There is secondary (non canon) character death in this chapter, so beware. Also, to understand all references, you would actually need to read 'Babe'
> 
> Hope you enjoy. This chapter was somehow hard to write but I kinda like it ^^
> 
> As usual, this is unbetaed  
> BTW, If someone has time to waste on me and would be kind enough to proof read my stuff that'd be very cool - I have no idea if I should ask that way or if there's a special hidden place on the Internets where you get to discuss that stuff... but yeah, if interested, please DM me. (you can find me on twitter or insta (@anychou) or facebook (Ane y Cia) - Oh and I don't have a stan account, FYI, I mainly post pictures of my cat (He's cute as fuck though)
> 
> That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter ^^  
> Please comment and kudo, it gets me going! <3

Monica gathered a fork full of tomato sauce-soaked macaroni and brought it to her awaited father’s mouth. She dropped a few, falling on the table. One rolling to the floor. Mickey shook his head, trying to hide a smile, he grabbed the macaroni on the floor and threw it on the table to be discarded later. Monica pushed the fork into Ian’s mouth a little forcefully and dropped a few more pasta on his shirt. This made him laugh, and that’s when Mickey decided to intervene.

“Com’on Moni, you put more on the floor than in his mouth.” He smiled and moved his daughter’s chair closer to Ian.

“Com’ere, kid.” He propped her up, sitting at the same time he pushed her back on his lap. She moved the plate in the process and dropped another load of pasta on the table. The two men laughed at that. Their daughter however didn’t even notice, concentrated on feeding her father.

The girl filled another fork and brought it to the open mouth, more easily now that she was closer.

“Papa, you need to eat, it’ll make you strong enough to go back to work.” Her statement was definitive, she had appointed herself Ian’s head nurse and took her ‘job’ very seriously. As Ian dutifully opened his mouth for the next batch, he met Mickey’s gaze. The two men fondly smiled at each other.

Two months since Mickey moved back home. Two months of rough times and victories, small and bigger. Ian could feed himself now. He was better. Not out of the woods yet, but better. Though as it became obvious that his daughter needed to be involved in his getting better, Mick and he had decided to let her help. And she had gone above and beyond. Asking so many questions on the illness, organising Ian’s day, feeding him, entertaining him, forcing him to go on walks with her every day. Those walks had become the centre of Ian’s day. At first, he had refused. The girl had spent hours in the bed with him, looking at him with puppy eyes, telling him how much she would love to go to the park with him. Ian caved in, of course he did! How couldn’t he? First it was his daughter, she deserved to get everything she asked for. And second, it reminded him how hopeless he felt as a kid when he tried to help Monica to no avail. No fucking way he was doing that to his kid, so whenever they asked, he tried. He tried so damn hard, but it was all worth it. In his mind it was his biggest achievement. Little did he know it was in his husband’s mind too.

So, Monica had become quite the little nurse. Her parents indulged it given that it was the first episode she was old enough to fully understand. Mickey drew the line to medication, though. No kid was to touch papa’s medicine, that much she knew well. And to bath, which she had insisted on giving to Ian. Baths were given by daddy and daddy only.

Ian could shower on his own now. But he indulged, given that this was his favourite moment of the day. Mickey had put extra effort in drawing the baths lately, even going and buy shit as opposed to borrowing Bernie’s stuff. Ian thought it was maybe because this time around Mickey had been really scared. Hell, he had really scared himself too.

Ian put Monica to bed, right after his third mandatory check up of the day, which consisted in his daughter taking his temperature with the back of her hand on his forehead and taking his pulse with two fingers pushed on the side of his neck. On the wrong side but Ian decided he could show her how to do it properly later. He was not even close to remotely be surprised. It had become a nightly ritual now. He had tried to find reasons against it but really couldn’t find any. On the pro side, turned out it give them time to speak, or to spend quality quiet time together. That was time they needed to find each other again. Time Ian needed to find the courage and the confidence to speak about what was still nagging at his belly every minute he was awake. 

So, yeah, he went straight to the bathroom where he knew Mickey would be after clearing the dinner table.

“She OK?” The man was already lounging in the tub filled with blueish water and too much bubble to be by accident.

“Yeah,” that look sent energy bolt directly to Ian’s dick. Maybe, just maybe, this could work tonight. Ian could do with a proper fuck in lieu of the half assed handy-j and heads they were giving each other. But the cocktail change Winters made had fucked him up real bad this time, or maybe it was just how bad this episode had been. Still was. He looked at the man smiling at him from his bubble bath. How fucking supportive he had been despite everything that happened this year. Fuck he loved him!

“YOU ok?” He must have noticed Ian rummaging in his head again.

“Yeah,” he made quick work of his clothes and climbed into the warm water, not caring much about the rippling and splashing. He sat and immediately leaned his back against Mickey’s chest, resting his head comfortably against his husband’s shoulder and allowing his brain to react to the small delicate touch of Mickey’s hand tenderly stroking his chest over his ‘Mickey’ tattoo.

“Yeah, Mick, I’m good.” And, just then, Ian decided, tonight was the night. The night he was gonna let Mick speak to him about Pablo’s death.

_***8 months earlier***_

_“Monica!” Fred had hardly opened the front door before he shouted through the house._

_“Yo! Mornin to you too punk!” Lip needed to teach his kid some manners Mickey thought. His daughter on the other hand didn’t seem to be much bothered. Most likely due to habit. She raised with a little too much force from the kitchen table, knocked over her empty glass._

_“Sorry,” she said hurriedly, “Bye,” She grabbed her school bag and ran to meet her cousin halfway the living room. Followed suit by Bernie who didn’t at any point raised her head from her phone. She sent a quick and half-hearted wave as she grabbed her bag. Her fathers smiled at that. Turned out, Yev teenage crises had been nothing compared to what this tiger was brewing._

_“Bye, girls!” Ian said before swallowing a giant spoon of cereals._

_“Goodbye Uncle Mickey!” The voice came loud and arrogant. Clearly aiming at taking the peace._

_“Fucking douch like his father!” Ian giggled at the grumpy outburst, entailing his husband in fits of laughter, lasting well after they had cleared the breakfast table._

_Ian was washing while Mick was drying. That usually was the way they were doing the washing up. Sometimes they mixed things up. But not this time._

_“Oh, I forgot! Fi’s looking for staff for this summer, I thought we could ask Bernie. What d’you think?” He handed a stack of dripping cutlery for his husband to dry._

_“I think that we shouldn’t even ask. It’ll do her good to spend the summer in New-Orleans working. If it could get her to drop her phone for a while, I’m all in.” He smiled at how impossible this situation would be. Ian wasn’t as shy and downright laughed his ass off._

_“Maybe you should talk to Debbie, see if Franny wants to go too, that’d make it easier to convince Bernie.” If Fiona had a spot for 1 in her diner, she had a spot for two._

_“Good idea.” Ian dried his hands on the back of his jeans and leaned to his left side to drop a quick kiss on Mickey’s cheek. He turned around and set to sort the pile of dirty laundry in the basket located right under the shoot._

_The doorbell rang. The two men looked at each other puzzled. Whoever would be likely to come at this time would also be very unlikely to ring the bell. Mickey gestured a ‘fuck if I know’ with both arms throwing in two ‘what the fuck’ eyebrows for good measures as he strode to the door._

_The man let go of the bell he had been pressing non-stop for the last minute or so, when Mickey Gallagher opened the door. He was hunky, tall and if his facial features did show he was Mexican, his tattoos definitely showed what cartel he belonged to, without a doubt._

_Mickey snapped back into southside trash in no time, sensing threat that hadn’t happened in years._

_“The fuck man?! The agreement is no contact, that fucking mean no contact. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but Ima call your boss and soon you gonna be none more than a pair of crappy shoes stickin’ outta concrete, bitch.” Before the man could speak, Mickey had closed the door. Backing up, passably annoyed when the man rang the bell again. He quickly went to the safe hidden in the alcove he once used as an office, opened it swiftly, and retrieved the guns, hidden in there. He met Ian’s quizzical glance, nodded quietly. His husband understood immediately, expertly caught the gun Mickey threw to him. And hid in the kitchen, on alert, ready to intervene any given moment._

_Mickey moved back to the door stealthily, took a deep breath and in one swift movement opened the door and aimed his armed glock directly at the man’s face._

_When you belong to a gang you learn very early that there are worse things than having a gun pointed at your face. Even if the one holding the gun is a Milkovich. Even if the one holding the gun is Mickey Milkovich protecting his family._

_“You have to the count of three to tell me what the fuck you doin’ ere. One.” Well, so Mickey Milkovich protecting his family might have been a tinsy bit scary after all. The man had to diffuse the situation fast. “Two,” ok so real fast, then._

_“Estoy aqui porque Pablo esta muriendo.” That got him the attention he needed. The man in front of him seemed to hesitate for a split second. He took it as his queue to say all he had to say. No need to be there any longer than necessary._

_“Quiere que estes ahi. No tardara mucho, debes irte ahora.”_

_Mickey’s inside felt rock solid. He tried not to show that he was out of breath. Put the gun down because all of a sudden he wasn’t trusting his reflexes anymore. It could have lasted one hour or one second, Mickey wouldn’t have seen the difference. He needed to say something, he knew he did. He just needed time to think what his best course of action would be. And as he didn’t have that needed time he went back to the comfort of his former self._

_“The fuck should I care?” The man moved fast, he was holding the collar of his shirt in seconds, lift him so he was standing on his toes. Mickey could have used his gun, but one look in the eyes of the man towering him and he knew he wouldn’t. He recognised those eyes; he understood the man now threatening him wasn’t just a random messenger._

_The accent was thick, but the words were clear._

_“Because you are the reason my brother’s dying, hijo de puta! If he wants you by his side, you will be there.” There was no room for discussion. Not that Mickey would try to discuss. Of course, he would be there he owed at least that._

_“’K, let me pack a bag.”_

_Ian wasn’t sure what was happening. He knew that with Mickey’s and Lip’s chosen line of work, there might be some risks. But there had been nothing for more than ten years, so no one was expecting that shit anymore. Ian wasn’t sure what was happening. He heard Mick threaten the guy, some words in Spanish he thought and then nothing._

_What should he do? Go help, stay back?_

_When they discussed the eventuality of such an event so long ago, they had made plans. Mickey would take the front, Ian the back, Lip would keep everyone safe in the basement and Carl would try to not kill everyone. This seemed like another life, so much had changed now._

_But even though Ian had gone soft, protection instincts came back. No one threatens his family! That’s how he made the executive decision to stay in the kitchen, protect the back while his husband dealt with whatever what at the door._

_This was all confusing. After the words came the silence and then footsteps up the stairs, only one set, Mickey’s, then the door to their room slam shut. Ian didn’t think, just ran up the kitchen stairs, joined their room in a couple of strides and opened the door still on alert._

_Whatever he expected, it definitely wasn’t seeing his husband packing a bag._

_“What the fuck Mickey?” The shorter man had not been surprised when the door opened._

_“Gotta go for a few days.”_

_“What do’you mean you gotta go? What happened?”_

_“Nothin’, I’ll be back in a few days, a month tops.”_

_“Mick, fuckin’ tell me what’s happening!” Ian was screaming now._

_“I gotta go, Ian, I owe him at least that!”_

_“Who?” Ian felt his insides turn at the laconic replies he was receiving. His mind racing through a lifetime of memories to try to get some sort of answer, a reason for his husband’s behaviour._

_“Fuck, Mick, who? Where are you going?”_

_“Pablo, ok! He needs me, gotta go!” Mickey was erratic, he grabbed his poorly prepared bag and pushed past Ian without even a glance._

_Pablo. The name had not come up for more than a decade. Ian felt sick. Not sure he’d understood what Mickey was saying._

_“Mick…” His voice was low, his throat dry. “Mick,” he tried again. The shorter man had stopped at the top of the stairs, not daring to turn around._

_“I got to Ian, he’s dying’,” his voice trailed off, heavy. Ian new him enough to hear the tears stuck down his throat. But that wouldn’t cut it. After so long, after three kids, after a life together, he was choosing that guy. The fear had never left Ian. It had reached the bottom of his mind, had not resurfaced until now. It came up strong, overwhelming, pushed the words out of his mouth like a volcano. Fast, messy, hot spurts of lava._

_“Fine, choose him, go with him, leave me alone, Mick!” The words were burning him on the way out._

_“Go ahead, Mick, abandon, me. Abandon your kids, wouldn’t be the first time!” He regretted it as soon as he said it. He saw his husband whole body clench at the words._

_“Fuck you, Gallagher.” Ian could only feel sadness in the statement. It scared him even more. There was many sides of his husband he could control, anger, jealousy even. But sadness, no._

_It hit him, then. ‘Gallagher’. He was’ babe’ now, or ‘Ian’, or even ‘asshole’ on occasions. But he hadn’t be ‘Gallagher’ for years. ‘Gallagher’ was in their past, when Mickey had difficulties to express his feelings, when Ian felt he wasn’t worth it. It was a lifetime ago. A life that Ian felt he was losing right now, watching his husband leave to go to the only other man he ever loved._

_So, Ian reacted the only way he could remember how to. He reacted the way Gallaghers reacted when feeling trapped. He ran after Mickey down the stairs, grabbed him by the shoulder._

_“If you go, don’t come back!” The brunette roughly escaped his hold and opened the entrance door._

_“You hear me, Mick?! If you go, don’t you ever come back! You’re not welcome here anymore!” He was screaming at that point, on the doorstep of their shared house. The house were all the good memories he had with his husband and three kids had ineluctably replaced the bad childhood ones._

_He was standing there on the doorstep, watching the love of his life go to the only other man he ever loved._

_*_

_The ride to Mexico had been long. Although Mick knew Pablo had a brother, he’d never met him as he lived in the states. Maybe, if he’d met him in different circumstances, he might not have totally hated him. But, right now, he couldn’t wait to get out of the beat-up truck that drove them through streets he knew so well more than a decade ago._

_He was in a hurry to get away from the car until he saw where they were headed. He knew that it was likely Pablo would have moved in the almost 15 years they had lost track of each other. But when they entered the street and stopped in front of the four-storey colonial style building, he wanted to imbed himself in the passenger seat._

_When Mickey and Pablo lived together, they were talking about buying a place together, even visited a few. And this place was one of those, Mickey’s favourite actually. He swallowed back the bile that was reaching the back of his throat. Eliciting a bitter cough._

_“Venga tonto.” Judging by the ton, the lack of love was mutual. Mickey followed without a word. He was past nasty come backs._

_In the bedroom he had seen empty years before, was a medical bed and multitude of medical equipment Mickey couldn’t name for the life of him. Besides that, the room was scarcely furnished. There simply was a dresser on the opposite wall from the entrance door. The top of it was full of pictures. His attention went straight to the picture of Pablo, his mom and him at one of their Sunday lunches. The urge to throw up came back fast and ugly. He swallowed drily and entered the room._

_The look on Pablo when he saw him did something to Mickey. He wasn’t sure what it was. A mix of sadness and guild for sure. And maybe happiness to see him?_

_“I moved back here when they said he had only a few months left. Bought a place, he insisted on that mierda.” The brother said matter-of-factly._

_“I sleep on the couch; you can find yourself a hotel or a ride back when you done talkin’.”_

_“Miguel!” Mickey flinched when Pablo spoke. The voice was so tired, disembodied, so fucking far away from the voice Mickey remembered, it made his stomach churn some more. Miguel growled._

_“I know he won’t tell you so I will. You’re the reason he’s dying. After you abandoned him, the cartel came for him, nearly killed him. They left him with damage to his spinal cord and his heart. The heart is failing, he’s dying.”_

_“Miguel, Cierra la bocca y sal, pronto!” The man slammed the door shut, leaving the two former lovers alone in the dim light of the bare light bulb on the ceiling._

_Mickey quickly moved further into the room, sitting on the old armchair by the head of the bed and mechanically grabbed Pablo’s hand. He didn’t really think about it until the man lying on the bed shivered at the touch._

_“Is this true?”_

_“It doesn’t matter, anymore.” Pablo smiled at him; it was so genuine that Mickey couldn’t swallow his tears anymore. The salty droplets fell freely down his cheeks, landing softly on their knotted hands._

_“Fuck.” He wanted to say more but he was lost for words._

_“No te preoccupes, amor. There’s no time anymore for blame. I just wanted to see you one last time make sure you’re ok.”_

_“Pablo, fuck I’m so fucking sorry! I… I…”_

_“Mickey, listen,” the sick man removed his hand from Mickey’s hold and brought it to the distraught man’s cheek. “I am not gonna lie. I was very upset with you for a long time, blamed you for all the… the… el dolor.” He sighed. Mickey clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached. “Pero estoy muriendo, amor, tengo nunca mas tiempo por el odio.” He smiled gently. That same smile that brought Mickey back from hell all those years ago. He tried to smile back but couldn’t manage to make his muscles work._

_Pablo laboriously shifted his position to sit against his pillows, letting go of the man looking up at him._

_“Dime, Mickey, ¿eres feliz?” Mickey answered with a simple nod, not wanting to bask in his happiness right this instant but knowing none the less that an answer was expected._

_“Tell me about your happy life,” it was the request of a dying man and Mickey that at the very least he owed him that. So, he told. He told everything. The good, the bad, the amazing. It took time. He took his time._

_In the living room, Miguel was sprawled on the couch, looking at Mickey as he was rummaging through his bag in search of his phone._

_“I’m staying, I’ll sleep on the armchair in the bedroom.” Before the man could say anything, he exited the apartment through he single wooden door leading to the tiniest balcony. Memories were flooding him every he looked. The tiny ass balcony reminded him the light-hearted argument about what to do with such a small place. He wanted to grow weed, Pablo wanted to have a small table with two garden chairs._

_“Looks like you won that one, babe.” Mickey said absentmindedly as he sat on the beat-up garden chair. He tried to call Ian, not really hoping for his husband to answer. This would be the first of many times he tried, the result would be the damning same every time._

_Mickey stayed until the end, sleeping on the armchair, helping with chores around the apartment, with Pablo’s care, dutifully getting out of the way every time the mother came and refused to have him around telling the story of how happy he was thanks to the sacrifice of the man dying in front of him. The only other man he ever loved._

_Mickey was holding Pablo’s hand when he died. He left shortly after, only making sure the funeral was paid for. He didn’t attend, though. I would have felt out of place among the family of the man that quite literally gave his life for his happiness. Mickey Milkovich was sure he didn’t deserve that._

_Mickey Gallagher was also sure he had ruin everything Pablo had died for. He took the bus back home, needing the extended journey time to clear his thoughts. He understood Ian’s reaction. He also knew that he had been Pablo’s last wish so not going had not been a solution either. He was defeated, but he would accept his fate. Because what else could he do. He went straight to his office, grieving the loss of the two men he ever loved._

_***_

The water was getting cold. But none of the men laying front to back in the tub noticed it. Because Ian had decided that tonight was the time, he’d asked Mickey what happened in Mexico, he had let his husband rest against him. They usually did it the other way around, him resting against Mickey’s chest, matching his breathing to the steady heartbeat. These quiet times were usually all about him. But not tonight. Tonight, it was all about Mickey, and about how much he was loved.

It had not been easy to make him talk. The shorter man being his stubborn self and not wanting to hurt him. And, yeah to be honest the whole hour listening to Mickey once he got him to open up, had not been a walk in the park. But Ian had done a lot of introspection lately and realised he needed to know. If he wanted to things to get back to where they were, he needed to know. And to accept. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to accept, but he would try. The fact was he had not really accepted it the first time around, he just ignored. Willingly forgot. But he couldn’t do that anymore, he had to face things the way they were. Mickey had loved someone else and lost them.

Somehow, once he’d started talking Mickey just let it go. Telling everything that happened, years ago, and just days ago. Telling stuff, Ian would have preferred not knowing and yet was glad his husband told him.

They had made it to the bedroom, pushed out of the bathtub by the increasingly cold water. Laying comfortably facing each other, kissing, looking, stroking. It was sweet and deep and exactly what they needed. Ian watched Mickey fall asleep and kept looking. He was beautiful when asleep. Not just like attractive, but artistically beautiful. He imagined for a second how his husband could have easily been a muse for some painter of sculptor or some shit like that. Growling at the idea of sharing him. There it was, again, he quietly laughed at himself for getting all worked up at nothing more than a fantasy. He had to get over it. Accept that Mickey had loved someone else. Someone else that he abandoned the moment he knew Ian needed him.

Ian wondered if he had done that. In the same circumstances, who he have abandoned he prospect of a happy life for Mickey? Didn’t he do just the opposite all those years back at the border. Didn’t he choose a life of quiet normalcy (or so he thought) over Mickey?

Ian fell asleep feeling the weight of what Mickey’s confession brought to light. He loved Mickey, with everything he had, but he knew now that he had failed him. He had failed to show the depth of his love. He had failed the life they’d built together by doing the worst thing he could do. He’d projected his own short comings on Mickey. Well, not anymore.

Ian could feel the ghost of his down episode creeping back up. It pissed him off, he had no time for that. He would not let it cripple him, this time. He had work to do, damage control. He was confident.

Because Ian Gallagher was nothing if not focused on the task at hand. And the task was actually easy. Put Mickey first, show him the same devotion he’d shown Ian at every corner of their life.

Ian wasn’t going to half ass it anymore; Mickey was the most important person in his life and he was going to make sure the whole fucking world knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Estoy aqui porque Pablo esta muriendo - I'm here because Pablo is dying
> 
> Quiere que estes ahi. No tardara mucho, debes irte ahora - He wants you there. It won't be long now, you have to go now
> 
> hijo de puta - Son of a bitch
> 
> Venga tonto - Come on asshole
> 
> mierda - shithole (shit)
> 
> Cierra la bocca y sal, pronto - Shut up and leave, now
> 
> No te preoccupes, amor - Don't worry love
> 
> el dolor - the pain
> 
> Pero estoy muriendo, amor, tengo nunca mas tiempo por el odio - I'm dying love, I have no more time for hatred
> 
> Dime, Mickey, ¿eres feliz? - Tell me Mickey, are you happy?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey have been happily married, and parents to 3 great kids. They live close to family and are simply put happy. But loose ends need to to be tied and it sets motion to more pain, again! Will they ever be happy with no complications?
> 
> This is the epilogue of the Millagh... Naaah! series. Although I hope you'd enjoy this story on it's own, I can only advise to read the previous stories in this instalment to have a full understanding.
> 
> There will be 5 chapters to tis story and some angst to come before this all ends happily ;-)
> 
> Hope you enjoy, please leave Kudos and Comments, this is always appreciated^^
> 
> Thanks for taking this journey with me!
> 
> PS: This is unbetaed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic DOmEstiC DOMESTIC!  
> I really enjoy exploring the post wedding, deep into marriage Gallavich ^^ Hope you enjoy it too!
> 
> FYI, smuttish scene at the beginning!
> 
> Please leave kuddos and comments, I live for it.
> 
> And FYI, we're going deep into the old married cople thing in the next 2 final chapters, hope you like wrinkly dudes that are madly in love!

He slowly dragged his fingers along his husband’s inner thighs watching closely as the skin shivered under his touch, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its trail. He moved up until his hands were opening the ass cheeks wider and without really thinking things through, he nuzzled at the black rubber button shape object sticking out of Mickey’s tight hole.

Ian was all for giving into Mickey’s kink. And the man had quite a few. Most about toys which Ian enjoyed too for the most part. Some about behaviour in bed, chocking, insulting which Ian accepted too on occasion. He couldn’t say he was into it per say, what he could say was he fucking loved Mickey’s reaction when sex was going down that way. How he just let himself go, that got him each time. Not that it was that often. Their sex life now was mainly comfortable love making, orgasms rooted in feelings and emotions. Sometimes though they enjoyed the roughness of pure animalistic sex. They had that a lot before. Before the married life. Before the kids. Before the feelings brought more to their sex.

In the last few weeks though, as Ian had decided to pamper Mickey into oblivion, the sex had been about him only. And it had been all about his toys, his kinks, his desires. That’s how, Mickey got himself, all worked up, his husband devilishly playing with the plug buried deep and wide inside him, each tilt making the rubber toy pushing into his prostate in the most delicious way. Each hand attached to a handle of the night stands on each side of the bed. The manly, ‘no fluff’ handcuffs that he had insisted on, were carving marks in the skin at his wrists. His arms span wasn’t as wide as needed to make his position comfortable. This was so fucking good though. The simple idea of being a vulnerable needy mess under Ian’s ministration was enough for him. And the beautiful bastard was taking his time, dropping sweet kisses on his balls, around his shaft, all the while playing with the toy lodged so deep it made him break sweats.

Ian kissed his way up his husband’s body, keeping his right hand busy, stroking him hard, just like he liked. Stopping every now and then to pull on the toy and push it back. Pull again and push back. Pull and push. And that was it, Mickey was done for the count, came undone in his own crazy ginger’s hand.

And sure, he liked it. And sure, the last few weeks have been fun. It kinda reminded him of when they were younger. Their sex life had been a roller coaster just like the rest of their relationship, really. Well with the huge difference that that particular roller coaster never went down. It went up and up and up some more. From fucking amazing, to off the charts, to nothing short of heavenly. And yeah, ok, Mickey really enjoyed the dirty kinda sex, the toys and the name calling, but if he was being honest, fact was he enjoyed even more the lazy, sweet & soft Sunday morning sex they were having now. Topped with the occasional ball gagging. Well, Mickey could genuinely say he was happy with their sex life. Because it was mind blowing but also because it was known territory. It was a settled married couple with three kids and steady jobs, sex life. It was years of knowing the other so well that you would know better than them what makes them tick. It was what Mickey Milkovich didn’t even dare imagining. It was what Mickey Gallagher had.

Ian was still gently kissing him from his collarbone to his ear, helping him come down from his high. Ignoring himself like he’d done each time in the last couple of weeks.

This was concerning, Mickey thought. He’d have to try and speak to him about it. Now wasn’t the time though, he had to go to the airport and they still had to get that fucking gigantic plug out his ass before he contracted back around it.

*

Yevgeny knew his dad was going to pick him up at the airport. He hadn’t said it, had even said more than a half-hearted “OK,” when Yev had said he would take the train back home. But he knew he would be there, at the custom exit, away from the crowd and most likely casually smoking in a very clearly identified non-smoking area. And maybe it shouldn’t, but it made Yev kinda proud, somehow.

And sure enough, he saw his dad as soon as he passed the last of the sliding doors, leaning, arms crossed against a pillar. It took one more second for Yev to notice Liam standing next to his dad and very obviously talking his head off. Yev wasn’t expecting Liam not to be there. They were best friends after all and hadn’t seen each other for almost a year. Jemma wasn’t there, though. They had decided to meet later.

When his father spotted him, he said a few words that had Liam turn around and split his mouth in a smile that showed all his big white teeth. Yev had missed him. He’d actually missed all of them. Although, he had truthfully been over the moon to spend time with his mother, he had had to admit that his Russian roots were not as prominent as they might have been at some point or as his mother had hoped.

Truth was, he’d missed everyone here and also his life in south side Chicago. This was who he was now, and he was happy to fully embrace it.

“How was your flight?” His father asked as a mean of welcome all the while crushing his cigarette butt directly on the non-smoking sign that was hanging on the pillar a few inches above his shoulder. Yev loved the fact that this was most likely not even ironic. He must have not even paid attention to the sign. Mickey Gallagher notoriously never paid attention to fuck-all. Well, except his family.

They didn’t hug, they didn’t have this kind of father/son dynamic. They didn’t really need it; all their non-verbal communication was carried out in their eyes. They had full conversations within a few gazes. Liam, on the other hand was a hugger. Yev opened his arms wide when his best friend/uncle ran to him. During the time he spent in Russia, they’d been speaking several times a week. Less than with Jemma, but more than with his parents, for sure. He felt a bit bad about it, but then he supposed he had an excuse. After all, they had to plan his move to their shared apartment on campus, now that he’d cleared things with his mom.

“Tiring,” Yev said while his face still smashed against Liam’s clavicle. Liam had spurred out these last few years, now towering over him. And it was ok, Yev knew he wasn’t on the tall side himself. He made up with being buff and clearly on the way to being a bulky bull kind of hot, just like his father. But a few inches taller and that, he’d made sure his dad never forgot.

“OK, let’s get, then.” Mickey said matter-of-factly all the while grabbing his son bag from his shoulder. Another small loving gesture that none of them would acknowledge.

Mickey’s whole parenthood was based on small gestures that no one ever acknowledged. Holding Yevgeny’s stuff, even when he didn’t need help. Brushing Bernadette’s hair, even when she could do it herself. Reading night-time stories to Monica, even when she was getting too old. And they all indulged because they loved their dad as much as he loved them.

“¿Vas a decirme lo que piensas mas tarde?” Yev snorted when Liam spoke. It wasn’t that he was jealous exactly, they had been doing that ‘speaking Spanish, talking bubble’ shit for as long as he could remember. It was their thing, and he knew for a fact that his dad had helped Liam go through some shit a few times, like when he broke up with Meg. It was more that he wished he could be part of the conversation. So, yeah, maybe he was a little jealous. So, what, Liam was his best friend after all, sue him!

“Maybe I should start to speak Russian to show you how uncool it is when you do that!” Maybe he could have said that with a little more humour, or a little less bitterness. But it was a whole momentum really. He was jumping onto the front passenger seat of the SUV when he said it. It was forceful.

He had forgotten for a second who he was speaking to. Remembered quickly when he was met by a fit of laughter as the two men joined him in the car, Liam in the back, Mickey behind the wheel. They exited the airport carpark in silence, Yev taking in the relatively better state of the American infrastructure. This leap year (or almost year) spent in Moscow with his mother had been an eye opener. An eye opener to how much American he was. He’d been upset with his mother, when he was younger, for leaving him behind. What this year over there had shown him, however, was that leaving him with his dads was the best gift she could have given him. Moscow wasn’t his scene. Drugs and weapon dealing wasn’t his thing. And he understood now that this would be only outcome his mom would be able to provide. Here he had a future, opportunities. He thought she had abandoned him, where she had merely made sure he’d live the best possible life the son of a Russian whore and a Chicago south side thug could live.

“You speak Russian, now?” Mickey looked at him for a second before moving his attention back on the road as their company branded SUV swiftly entered the highway. Yev thought he saw some pride in his father’s eyes for a sec.

“Yeah, I get by. Not that it’ll do me any good here.” Mickey smiled at that.

“Yeah, I get you. If it wasn’t for knucklehead back there, I’d never use my Spanish.”

“I don’t know, dad. Spanish is more useful than Russian.” He looked through the window as Chicago was extending beyond the horizon. “Even more if you plan a trip to Mexico for example.”

To the novice eye, there was no change in Mickey’s behaviour. But Liam and Yev knew him enough to notice the knuckles getting paler as they gripped the wheel tighter, jaw clenched, eyebrows lifted up almost comically, and the eyes fluttering erratically.

“Who told you?”

“I did.” Liam didn’t see the point of lying. He knew the finger he just had from his brother-in-law was going to be about all the wrath he would experience for his indiscretion. He also knew Yev would have been beyond upset if he hadn’t known. Ian and Mickey had a tendency to try to hide bad things from their kids. Yev wasn’t a kid anymore though.

“I thought it’d be better to let you have a ball with Svet, you know, I…”

“I know dad, but you know I could have helped!” Mickey didn’t reply to that, but he snorted loudly and that really was all the answer his son needed. For now.

“You know that at one point you gonna have to tell us he whole story, right?” Liam pushed himself as far as he could in his seat, as he witnessed the silent eye exchange between father and son. Mexico was a sore topic that one did not bring up. Ever. That much everyone knew in the Gallagher clan. But somehow his best friend/nephew had come back from Moscow with an unwavering resolve.

“Fuck off!” Mickey spat. Holy fuck. Yev won! Liam rose back from the mouse hole he had made for himself in the back seat of the MG Security company car.

They drove in silence for a while. Mickey had to lick his wounds, Liam thought.

South side was coming into view when Mickey spoke again, addressing the other ‘elephant in the room’.

“So, you managed to convince her?” Yev looked at his father for a second. Only now realising he hadn’t heard his father name calling his mom for a while. Mentally tried to retrace the last time that happened.

“’Don’t think I’ll ever convince her.” He spoke somewhat mechanically, lost in his thoughts, until he felt Liam’s hand gently padding his shoulder.

“It’s ok, though. We reached an agreement.” He looked at his father then Liam, smiling to let them know that everything was ok. “I choose whatever major I want as long as I minor in law and don’t get involved in your illegal stuff.”

“She’s one to fuckin’ talk!” Mickey had almost seemed hurt, but he quickly joined his son and brother in law’s laughter.

Yevgeny knew his dad was edging on the line between legal and illegal, sometimes crossing over. But his mom. His mom she was so far out that line, the line was a dot to her.

It had been a discussion throughout their time together. He’d told her he wanted to go into psychology because he wanted to help people. People like Ian. He wanted to make a difference. He could make a difference. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t hate her reaction, then, when she said she wanted him to study law, because lawyers are useful.

Sometimes Yev forgot how lucky he was that his dads created such a positive environment for him and his siblings. Above all, given what they’d gone through with their own parents. Sometimes he forgot that his parents were so used to make choices that were necessary and practical that it was hard for them to imagine making a choice based on will and desire.

“Good.” Mickey said suddenly very seriously. “Just don’t fuck it up, alright?” Yev smiled at that. Uncle Lip had already had the ‘don’t fuck it up’ talk with him and Liam, when they visited apartments on campus. And they listened, ‘cos as Liam put it, Lip knew what he was talking about.

*

As Mikey parked the car on the curb in front of the house, the three men noticed straight away that something was off. Monica was seated on the front stairs, looking down the street. As soon as she saw the car she jumped on her feet and ran toward them. At the scene of her daughter seeming that distraught, Mickey was out of the car so fast the car hadn’t even come to a full stop yet.

“Daddy!” She seemed scared. “I think papa’s not well.” Mickey ran so fast toward the house that he didn’t take the time to ask his daughter why she was home in the middle of a school day.

Yev, however, took the time, to ask her, right after the mandatory bear hug his little sister requested by jumping into his arms.

Monica explained that her papa had come pick her up from school, and they had stormed every flower shop in the city to find cornflowers to make a surprise for daddy. It was fun at first, but then when they got home, Ian had decided to make muffins and let her to deal with the flowers. She hadn’t finished bringing them inside because there was so much. And then Ian had called her into the kitchen to help and he was speaking so loudly and trying to get her to sing and dance and then he threw flour at her. She thought daddy wouldn’t be happy with that, so she refused. Her words were sobby. Her brother tightened his hug, squeezing her tiny body in his arms while she buried her face in his neck, causing the reminder of her explanation to be muffled.

“He told me that I was no fun, and I should go away if I didn’t want to have fun.” And that was it, she let the tears flow and he squeezed even more.

Liam caught his attention to her hands full of scratches and dried blood. “The flowers” he told his nephew. Yev nodded but let it slide for now, she needed reassurance not more distress.

In the house, Mickey shouted his husband’s name while taking the mess in. There were blue flowers everywhere in the living room. A tornado had taken over the kitchen, there was flour everywhere, eggs broken in different bowls and the counter. Mickey moved swiftly to turn off the oven that had obviously been heating high and empty for a while. He opened it and opened the window above the sink immediately after to let the smoke escape. “Ian!”

“Mickey! Oh no, Mickey you’re early! Stay downstairs until I call you!” He was cackling and chuckling and snorting, making hight pitched noises.

“The hell I am!” Mickey made it upstairs in a few steps, reaching their bedroom where the noises came from and stopped net in his trac. Ian had raised sheets all around the room, stappled them on the walls and furniture. He had brought the mattress to the centre of the room with the sheets still on and was in the process of lighting candles all around the room.

“Oh no, you’re ruining my surprise!” He shouted. “You like? I thought we could…”

“Ian!”

“… go camping or some shit. I will draw some stars on the ceiling. Don’t worry it won’t take too long. Then I will put Moni to bed, and we have the whole night for us!” He grabbed his phone, went to spotify and clicked on the first playlist he found that had the word romantic in the title. That’s how Mickey saw his husband walking toward him on the sound of Celine fucking Dion.

“Dance with me my love!” He made a move to hold Mickey by the waist, only to be beaten by the brunette, grabbing him by the nape of his neck.

“Ian, listen to me!” He saw in green eyes that he finally caught his attention and spoke fast lest Ian was gone again.

“Ian, c’mon man, look around you!” Ian looked, because Mickey asked him to. And Ian saw, because Mickey was always bringing him back to reality somehow. He saw the mess he knew he made, because Mickey was here to ground him. The mess he hadn’t even realised he was making, and he knew then. It took a few seconds for him to know what was wrong.

“Shit Mick, I didn’t see it coming!”

“It’s alright babe, I did but I thought we had more time. Let’s get you down a bit, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ian was speaking quietly, no doubt reliving the events of the day in his mind.

“Monica!” He looked at Mickey, tears already pouring down his cheeks. Mickey walked back to him and spread his hands over both wet cheeks, before pressing a chaste kiss on trembling lips.

“Hey, hey, quit worrying like that. She’ll be alright. For now, you need quiet. So, please put out all that shit” he pointed at some of the candles lit throughout the room. “And then lie down in our… tent?” He chuckled softly, eliciting a half-hearted shove from his husband.

“C’mon, lie down, I get you a downer.”

*

It took a few days before Ian could go to see Dr Novak. He had replaced Winters about a year and a half ago when she retired. Ian wasn’t feeling completely at ease with the middle-aged man yet, but he was ok. These kinds of things took time, he knew that. Although he wasn’t quite sure he would ever feel at ease now that he just asked him to bring Mickey over to their next appointment.

“You want me to go?” Mickey asked biting his lower lip.

“I don’t know.” Ian trailed his voice. He kept going back and forth, weighing options as to whether Mickey should be there with him. Also wondering why he should in the first place. Winters had told him years ago that therapy wasn’t meant to make him feel all good and happy. It was meant to make him acknowledge his issues and work on them. So, what did it meant when Novak asked for Mickey? Did Novak think Mickey wasn’t good for Ian. Because then Ian thought Novak wasn’t good for him.

As if reading through the turmoil of his mind, Mickey put him at ease and took the decision for him.

“Tell you what, I can come, we see how it turns out and if you want me gone, you let me know. Sounds good?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Ian leaned into the gentle stroke on his cheek and mechanically pushed himself against his husband. He was craving contact, as he always did after an episode. Mickey indulged him, as always, letting his husband hide his face in the crook of his neck as he rubbed gently up and down his arms.

Novak had kept the decor of the office exactly how Winters had left it, short for his diplomas replacing hers on the wall behind his desk. It had oddly reassured Ian the very first time he’d seen him. Now, not so much, with his husband seated next to him, he was fidgeting. Mainly nervous that he didn’t know why Novak had asked Mickey to come. A steady hand on his knee calmed him down immediately. Mickey was looking at him, reassuring, studying every inch of discomfort on his face, ready to be out the door at the first sign.

“You wonder why I asked Mr Gallagher to join us today, Ian, don’t you?”

“Yeah, wonder is one way to put it.” Ian trailed on. Mickey looked at the man quizzically, not really happy that he seemed to have asked him here to what? Test Ian? He was starting to get a little antsy too. And just as Mickey could tell what Ian was thinking, Ian noticed straight away that Mick was getting irritated. Grabbed his husband’s hand still rested on his thigh.

“Glad to meet you,” the man said looking at Mickey. “Your file was in Ian’s. I didn’t understand at first as you hadn’t seen Doctor Winters for years, Am I correct?” Mickey nodded, nonplussed. “But I just assumed that Doctor Winters thought it was important that I understood you and your dynamic as a couple. And well, I agree. That’s why you are here.” Mickey looked at him, eyebrows up. He was waiting for more to decide if he agreed, left the room or downright clicked the guy straight on the face.

“First I would like to make sure you understand that you work well together.” The two men looked at the doctor quizzically. They were not sure what to expect but as the south siders they were, they expected the worse.

“I mean, you’ve been through a rough patch lately. We discussed some of it with Ian. And what transpires is that this interaction you have when it comes to the illness, it works well.” The two men were looking at him dumbfounded. They had never look at it this way, working together through the illness was a necessity. It was never a matter of doing well or bad. It was merely a matter of trying.

Ian seemed to take in the information before Mickey, but he felt the need to correct the doctor.

“It’s Mickey, …”

“It’s the two if you, Ian.” The doctor cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “Understand that this works because of the two of you. Now walk me through your last episode. If you’d rather be alone for that, we can ask your husband to step out. Although I’m pretty sure the two of you already discussed that option, didn’t you?”

The two men relaxed when they understood Doctor Novak was on the same page as them. Ian shook his head and proceeded to explain what happened. How he wanted to show Mickey how much he loved him and didn’t realise how he got carried away until it was too late.

“What got you to realise you were manic?”

“Mickey told me.”

“And?”

“And I took extra medication, slept it off and took an appointment with you.” Ian felt a little stupid to have to describe the technicality of it like that.

“That’s not what I meant. Mickey told you and what else?” Ian looked at the man for a moment, only now realising the implication of what he wanted him to admit.

“He told me, look around you… and that’s all I needed.” Ian took a sharp breath, filled up his lungs. It somewhat burnt a little as if the organ had not been used for some time. He felt Mickey’s hand tighten on his thigh.

“Ok, so maybe I snap back to reality fast. But I wouldn’t manage to if it wasn’t for Mick. I need him.” There was a hinge of culpability in the last words he spoke. This wasn’t lost on Novak. Nor on Mickey who turned in his chair to grab Ian by the chin and turn his head to him.

“Hey, I need you as much as you need me!” Ian snorted loudly, rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. The idea was to convey how much he didn’t believe that. Also, a desperate attempt to try and will the tears back in. Novak felt he needed to intervene here.

“Mickey, could you tell us where you think you’d be if it wasn’t for Ian?” The brunette shot a look at him, eyebrows high and mouth open. He wasn’t expecting that, but supposed, maybe Ian needed to hear it.

“Dead or in jail.” He said matter-of-factly. It was Ian’s turn to squish his thigh.

Obviously, being the shrink he was, Novak proceeded to ask them both how they felt about everything. That was exhausting for the both of them and Mickey thought that as soon as they were home, he would drag Ian in the longest nap they’d ever had. That really was what kept him going for the next 45 minutes.

When the time came to discuss the changes in Ian’s medication regimen the two men were done for the count. Only hoping the changes wouldn’t be so drastic. Boy were they wrong!

“Listen, there’s another reason why I wanted to see the both of you today. I am in the process of starting a study on the effect of a carefully set environment on mental illnesses. I am trying to prove that in a selected environment, some medication might be replaced by social interaction. So, well, I believe that you too would be the perfect test subjects.” He met a wall of raised and frowned eyebrows and gaped mouths.

“Ok. What I mean is, if you agree to it, to work on giving you two the skills to manage the illness without relying so much on the medication. I think you would be the perfect subjects because you’re already doing that to a certain level, without even realising it.”

Silence.

They looked at the doctor as if he was an alien. Mickey was the first one to come back to reality.

“We have to think about it, we c…”

“We’ll do it.” Blue eyes shot at green.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Mick, I wanna try.”

“K.” That’s all it took to convince him. “What’s in it for us though?” Of course, Mickey would try to negotiate incentive.

“Well, first you must understand that it’s an experiment, right? So, the idea will be to study both your behaviours to find some sort of pattern. Then push this pattern further and if I’m right, ultimately this will result in a better management of your illness and a lesser intake of drugs.

I want to make it clear that there is no cure here, just a trial to make it easier for you to manage it on the daily bases. And because it’s experimental, there might be some setbacks.”

Mickey looked at Ian for a moment. He wasn’t sure if they should change anything. It was working so far so good. Why risk anything? But the look on his husband’s face told a different story altogether. The brunette turned to the doctor.

“Yeah, ok. What d’we have to do?”

“Ah good! Well, in a gist, we would have to have regular appointments, you would have some questionnaires to fill out and exercises to do.” Mickey’s growl was a bit louder than he intended, it made Ian smile a little.

“’K. You didn’t answer my question though. What’s in it for us?”

“Mick!” Ian scolded. Even after all these years, he still got annoyed at his husband’s voluntary lack of finesse and social skills.

“Well, erm… I can’t really pay you!”

“Sure, you can’t,” Mickey chuckle came out somewhat sinister, making Ian automatically feel some pressure in his lower abdomen.

“’K, look, our kid is starting college next week and wants to get into psychology. Can you give him a job or an internship or something?” He turned to Ian, “internr… internship?” The ginger simply nodded; Mickey turned back to the doctor eyebrows raised in expectance.

“Sure, we can work out something I’m sure!”

*

“There’s something I wanted to tell you before the brat mob invades us,” Mickey seated on the bed, methodically ordering Uno cards as it was the game Monica chose for their game night. They hadn’t had one for quite some time, so they let the kid choose the game. Mickey had hoped they didn’t actually own a Uno set… they did. He did his best to not look at Ian who was setting a cloth on the bed in a desperate attempt to avoid pizza bits all over and under the cover. Both parents knew it was a vain attempt, but he tried, nonetheless.

At those words, Ian popped his head up to Mickey, to no avail as his husband stubbornly kept his head in the Uno cards. Privilege of being soulmates, or maybe just being married for more than ten years, he felt the other’s attention on him and took it as his queue to keep speaking.

“I don’t know if you noticed but you didn’t apologise after your last episode.” Ian opened his mouth, no doubt for apologising for not apologising, right before his late apology. Mickey quickly kept speaking to nip the apology in the bud.

“It’s a good thing Ian. You shouldn’t apologise for that. It’s a fucking illness, right? You can’t do anything about it.” He stopped to catch his breath, his husband looking at him, somewhat dumbfounded.

“So, don’t… please?”

Somehow the silence that followed was comforting. They look at each other. No need for words. That’s the privilege of being soulmates, or married for more than ten years, or perhaps both.

“I love you.” That’s all Ian could think of saying. That’s all he needed to say.

“’Course you do, I’m perfect!”

“Ah! Perfect?” Ian laughed hard and decided to join his husband on the other side of the bed. Welcomed by defensive arms raised across sensitive parts. Because of course Mickey knew Ian would be heading straight for nipples. “You’re short-fused, borderline violent still. You swear like a motherfuckin’ truck driver. You fart!” Mickey was laughing so hard; he didn’t have the strength to stop Ian anymore. The taller man headed for the kill, in the form a bite in the neck. Strong enough to make his husband shriek, not enough to stop him from laughing out loud.

“And you snore!” Ian screamed. Mickey suddenly looked outraged.

“I do not snore you fuckin’ ginger giant!”

“Yeah, you do!” Bernie told from the threshold, before jumping at the foot of the bed, followed closely by a laughing Monica who jumped directly on Ian’s lap. Family trait, since Ian got better, she had been really clingy.

“I do not!” Mickey held his own as much as he could facing this family of traitors that tried to say he was snoring. He was soon joined by Yevgeny, helping him grab the Uno cards that had flown everywhere during his ‘fight’ with Ian.

“So, someone finally told daddy he’s snoring like a motherfuckin’ truck driver?” Everyone laughed except Mickey who tried his best to pout through his smile but failed big time.

“Come on dad,” Yev insisted, “I’m even surprised Aunt Debbie and Uncle Ig haven’t said anything, pretty sure they can hear you too.” The laughter amplified as the family of five fit perfectly on the parent’s bed.

The evening went on gleefully for a while, between laughter and letting Monica win so she wouldn’t have a fit. The pizza came, the parents quickly abandoning their hope of not finding bits of peperoni in their bed later. That was made even more true when Bob jumped on the bed and knocked the pizza over.

“Oh, come on, fuckin’ cat!” Mickey shouted as Mon grabbed the ginger feline and held him tight. Mickey was pissed off. But that didn’t last long.

“Cut it off, Mick, we all know you’re a cat person!”

“No, I ain’t a cat person!”

The kids and the cat were watching the exchange amused.

“Yeah, you are a farty, snory, grey haired cat lover!”

“What d’you mean grey hair!?!?!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Mickey snores?
> 
> Do you picture Mickey with white hair?
> 
> I think Ian is the fartiest one, but let's not tell him that ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey have been happily married, and parents to 3 great kids. They live close to family and are simply put happy. But loose ends need to to be tied and it sets motion to more pain, again! Will they ever be happy with no complications?
> 
> This is the epilogue of the Millagh... Naaah! series. Although I hope you'd enjoy this story on it's own, I can only advise to read the previous stories in this instalment to have a full understanding.  
> There will be 5 chapters to tis story and some angst to come before this all ends happily ;-)
> 
> Hope you enjoy, please leave Kudos and Comments, this is always appreciated^^
> 
> Thanks for taking this journey with me!
> 
> PS: This is unbetaed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter of the whole series! I cannot believe how far this has gone!
> 
> This chapter has no angst, it is full of sweet domesticity and Gallavich as parents.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :-)
> 
> FYI, next and final chapter is jumping in future, exploring Gallavich as old grandpas... impatient to share that with you!

Mickey was playing with Ian’s hair as they were laying on their bed. Ian’s head on his lap and a ginger bowl of fur leaning against his hip. So maybe his other hand was discreetly playing with the cat fur as well, so what?

Oh yeah, side note Mickey did not stroke. He did not caress. He did not even pet. He played. If it made Mickey feel good, Ian was all for ignoring semantic.

Ian was reading through the exercise Dr Novak had given them. In the last two months they had gone through multiple questionnaires. The questions had been hard on them because very personal, forcing them to look into themselves in a way Ian knew it made his husband very uncomfortable. Mickey however played the game, scoffing, muttering but dutifully answering. If it made Ian feel good, Mickey was all for ignoring his own personal boundaries.

“Ok, so apparently we have to do whatever is in these envelops.” He shook the bulk of envelops in his hands. “We must each choose 2 envelops and once the exercise is finished, we must record how we feel and send it to Novak by mail.” Ian handed the envelops to his husband prompting him to choose two. Mickey sighed louder than necessary and grabbed two envelops randomly.

“Ok, you do one, I do one!” Ian excitement was proportional to Mickey’s annoyance. He opened his first envelop and surprise replaced annoyance in warp time.

“The fuck!” He raised an eyebrow and threw the card that was in the envelope on Ian’s chest. Ian grabbed it and smiled as he read it.

Tell your partner what 3 words you think describe the best your sex life.

“OK, I start.” Ian said. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, eyes closed, and eyebrows frowned.

“Ok, I’d say, Amazing,” they both chuckled. Mickey mechanically dropped his hand on Ian’s chest, stroking his Mickey tattoo, there.

“Hmmm, then I’d say Kinky, maybe?”

“Maybe?” Mickey laughed.

“Well less than before, but still, we have a pretty like… imaginative sex life, don’t we?”

“Hell yeah, we do!” Mickey accompanied his statement with a pinch of Ian’s left nipple. That made Ian chuckle, which in turn made Mickey smile at him.

“Ok,” Ian quickly continued before the whole thing became too heated and they stopped the exercise for something more physical. “The third word that comes to my mind is LOoOove!” He made his mouth into an exaggerated ‘o’ and dragged the word making Mickey crack one of these smiles that show all his teeth.

“Ok, my turn, but if you laugh, I kick your ass!” That only got Ian giggling.

“Pfff, I can’t believe the shit I do for your ass.” He shook his head, smiling. “Ok, here goes, Perfectsweetdomestic.” He said it in one go, hoping Ian wouldn’t try to analyse every bit of his answer.

“What?” Fuck.

“What,” last option, playing dumb. Raised Eyebrows and surprised gaze.

“What d’you mean domestic? You think you do me like you do the laundry?” Mickey laughed, he was fond of Ian’s dry humour, always had been. Even though sometimes, like now, he wasn’t totally sure how much of a come-back it was.

“Yeah, you smell like dirty underwear, easy to get confused.” They both laughed and Ian – FINALLY – decided to jump on his husband pushing their lips together while he straddled his lap, effectively scaring Bob away.

They got lost in each other’s stare for a while, impressively still able to do that after years of marriage.

“I meant sweet lovin’ lazy sex that’s as fuckin incredible as kinky fucking. I meant the domesticity of bein’ married for over ten fuckin’ years and still getting hard when you look at me like that. I fucking love it and if you have a problem with that you fuckin’ say it!”

“No, Mick, I don’t have a problem with that.” The way he would trail that voice, drop it two tones down, it got to Mickey all the time.

“Close the fuckin’ door!” As Ian got up as fast as he could to slam the door to their room. Indicating in no uncertain terms, to whomever was in the house, cat included (he’d learned his lesson) that disturbing them for the next twenty to thirty minutes was not a good idea, Mickey got rid of his clothes with the speed of a father of three trying to sneak in a little afternoon delight.

Ian jumped back… well I’d like to say on the bed, but that’s not what happened. In his haste, he landed straight on his husband eliciting a yelp and a frantic laughter from the latter. He pulled at his lower lip with his teeth to get him to focus. And the stare was back.

“OK, you win that round,” Ian said softly, throwing the rest of the envelops haphazardly in the room, along with his shirt. “But I’ll win the game!”

“This ain’t no game.” The brunette pushed Ian’s pants down somewhat forcefully. “But I’m totally winning!”

*

Ian pulled back his boxers after having quickly swiped himself clean with one of the paper tissues they kept in the bedside table, he jumped into his grey sweatpants and grabbed Mickey’s discarded paper tissue on the floor.

“Gonna get dinner ready.” He made his way around the bed that his husband was stripping down and brushed his hand against the small of his back before exiting the room. Mickey craved for these little touches, although he would never say it to Ian, still trying to keep some of his frailness for himself. Ian knew.

Mickey made quick work of the bed, not that annoyed at the extra mess they made this time because 1/They needed to change the sheets anyway. And 2/It was fucking amazing (even more so than usual, extraordinarily so).

He moved expertly around the bed, tucking the sheets under the mattress, letting his mind wander. Smiling at what his young self would say if he saw him making the parental bed while his husband was making diner for their kids. Most likely a scrappy comment full of wit and ‘fucks’.

His both selves knowing perfectly that deep down this was all he ever dreamt of. Ian. Marriage, even kids… with Ian. Cause that was it really, the one thing he had known from the start, the one thing he had buried deep down, tried to ignore. He’d tried to be happy with someone else even, but that wasn’t the same, not exactly. He would have settled, surely. But he’d have never made the parental bed while his husband made diner for their kids. This equation only worked with Ian factored in. And that, he’d known from the start.

He didn’t lie to Ian when he said that the sex they had now was his favourite. The whole life they had now was what he’d always wanted, he ‘d just never let himself think this would happen or even believe this was his dream at all.

Diner went well. Debbie and Iggy had dropped their kids on them for the evening because they wanted to have the night for themselves. This kind of thing happened regularly. And when it wasn’t the Milkoviches, it was the Gallaghers.

Or Lip and whichever girlfriend he had at the time. He and Mandy had apparently been the only ones not to realise their love story had been doomed from the start. As a result, Mandy had gone back to live in New York – even after a little more than a year, Mickey was still a little pissed-off at him for that, FYI.

“Ok, next envelop is one I picked.” Ian was laying his back against the wall, legs straight, holding the envelop on his laps. Mickey was seated at the foot of the bed, legs crossed, rolling a joint. Kids were in bed or out, kitchen was tidy, the spliff was now lit, he was ready to kick that shit in the nuts. He nodded at Ian, handed the joint and waited for the sentence to come.

“This time you start,” Ian said pulling on the homemade cigarette between his index and middle finger, already feeling his head buzzing the slightest, courtesy of his fucking meds.

He read the card and laughed.

Tell your partner 2 things you never told before.

“Fuck!” Ian laughed at Mickey’s genuine reaction.

“Ok, hmmm… ok, I’ve got one I never told you.” He grabbed the joint from Ian’s hand and pulled on it, letting the toxic fumes invade his insides, revelling on the slight burn in his throat. Waiting for the drugs to give him a little more courage. Ian, right there with him, expectant but patient.

“Ok,” sigh, “so, here’s the thing. Stealing at the Kash & Grab when we were kids was actually me trying to hit on you.”

Ian, who had grabbed the joint back from his husband, laughed – well at least tried, as the smoke he’d inhaled at the same time just initiated a fit of cough that got him by surprised. He tried to breathe, eyes teary, Mickey silently laughing at the mess in front of him.

“Stealing fucking pringles was your way to hit on me?”

“C’me on, don’t laugh at me!” He said with a grin on his face. Looking back, this was pretty dumb. Even though he felt so fucking scared and stupid, waiting until the crazy bitch left because she scared him most of all. Entering the tiny shop, his mind full of flirty dialogues and lusty thoughts. Plans to get Ian alone in whatever dark corner available in this dump, letting him do things Mickey only dreamt of. All his plans shattering when he realised that either Ian wasn’t even working that shift and towelhead was alone. Or Ian was actually there. So, he’d lose his shit and steal fucking pringles and dips instead. Every fucking time.

Ian was still gasping for air, eyes crying and now whaling in lieu of laughing. Trying to get his words out while imagining Mickey resigned to pick pringles because he couldn’t find the courage to speak to him.

“Mickeyyyyy!” Laughter, “I’d’ve let you do, we wouldn’t even be on our first date yet!”

“Fuck off!” Was all Mickey could say before he joined his husband in his fit of laughter, still managing to drag the last of the joint before crushing it in the ashtray. He tried to control himself long enough to roll another one, still grinning at the sight of Ian losing it. Until a thought passed through the ginger man’s head and stopped the laughter suddenly.

“Wait, why would you try to hit on me in the first place? Weren’t you playing it unequivocally straight back then?” Mickey rolled his eyes at the exaggerated word and looked at him for a few moments, the softness in his eyes making Ian skip a bit or too, he returned the gaze.

“Kinda heard you tell Mandy you were gay,” Ian looked at him Dumbfounded. “What?! You shouted it in the back of the fuckin’ house at seven in the morning. Actually surprised no one else heard you.” He lit the joint he’d just rolled and pulled on it lazily, looking at Ian through heavy lids.

“Still.” Ian said as he grabbed the joint from his husband looking at joining him in the land of the dozed. He pulled on the stick, inhaling as much smoke as he could, letting it fill his lungs before speaking again. Mickey didn’t let him, though. He knew his husband enough. He was happy to share this secret with him. So, he decided to dive in, to say it all without being prompted. Maybe it was the happy-making fumes speaking, maybe it was just the happy face in front of him. He didn’t know for sure, but he didn’t care much. He wanted to tell him because he wanted him to know, because he wanted him to look at him just like he was right now.

“I might’ve had a wet dream or two about you before.” Mickey took the joint as his husband handed it and looked at him with wide eyes and an even wider smile.

“You got off thinking about me?” They both laughed at that. Ian taking the momentum to move and lean against Mickey and rest his head on his lap. He snatched the joint from his mouth, pulled on it and placed it back as if nothing had happened. He exhaled the smoke in long puffs above him, watching it surround Mickey’s head, making his smile sort of angelic.

“I got a fucking massive crush on you, man. Felt so stupid, thinkin’ about you, wanking off imagining you suckin’ my dick.” He chuckled. “Fuckin’ teenager crush and I was spiralling, man. Like one minute I wanted to kill you, the next minute I wanted you to bend me over.”

“Oooh!” Ian seemed to connect dots that had been forgotten a lifetime ago. “That’s why you made a move on me when I came to pick up the gun!”

“No, YOU made a move on me!”

“No, Mickey, you definitively yanked my shirt first!” His grin became predatory as he jumped up in a move, that, by any means, he had planned to look cool and sexy. Well, he looked like a tired thirty-odd year-old working dad that had smoked one too many joint.

A bit wobbly and definitively not smooth, he jumped on his husband, landing flat on a whaling brunette. They both took time to try and breathe through the laughter. Their eyes got lost in each other for a short moment.

“You were my first.” Simple statement, all the while reaching for the ashtray on the bed to indelicately chuck the reminder of the spliff in. Eyes met eyes again, it became serious suddenly.

“What?” Mickey decided to own his confession, throwing it all out for Ian to take.

“Like, I’d fucked chicks and I’d shoved stuff up my ass before, but you were my first… you know, guy.”

“Holy fuck!” Ian realised suddenly what it all meant. “Mick, why didn’t you tell me? I hardly fuckin’ prepped you that day!” Mickey chuckled.

“Yeah, I ain’t a pussy, babe.” He gently stroked some stray red hair back in place. “I fuckin’ enjoyed it, didn’t care if I limped for a few days. Came back for second, didn’t I?”

“And for third, and fourth…” Ian hovered his mouth over Mick’s neck as he spoke. Then stopped suddenly, lifted his head to level their gazes.

“When d’you realised you loved me?” Mickey looked at him for a second.

“Always knew, I guess. But I accepted it that time at the building when you kissed me while we were doing it.”

Ian searched his mind for a moment. There had been quite a few times he had kissed Mickey, since the shorter man had authorised it and in quite a few places of the abandoned building they once considered theirs. Seeing Ian’s brain-freeze, his husband took pity and gave him more details. Soon Ian was able to vividly remember that one kiss. They were fucking face to face, which Mickey was eliciting more and more often at that time. Not that Ian would draw attention to that by fear of scaring the emotionally impaired man he was currently holding against a scrambling pillar, his legs tightly wrapped around Ian’s waist, his hands grabbing the sides of the pillar with urgence. Ian thought Mickey would definitely hurt his hands against the rough stone of the disintegrating pillar; he wanted to reward him with the one thing he knew the man enjoyed even though he said he didn’t. That’s how he ended up kissing him roughly, pushing his head into the pillar. And Mickey came, scream (Like a real fucking proper scream) swallowed in the kiss. Ian smiled. He had accepted his own feelings already by that point, but he remembered how his heart had jumped when he felt the vibrations of Mickey’s reaction in his mouth.

“Pretty sure I can still make you scream like that!” Ian kept smiling.

“Pretty sure we can’t swing that position anymore, grandpa.” Their sweet chuckles slowly transformed into genuine smiles and they remained silent for a while. It was comfortable, just hearing the other’s breathing.

“I fucked a woman once.” The lack of reaction he received threw him back a little. He looked up to see a grinning face looking down at him.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

“Been friend with your brother long enough to hear the story of you going down on a chick ‘coz your boyfriend (air quotes) cheated on you.”

“Shit!”

“Can’t really blame your ass, though. I sorta did the same, I guess I felt bad. Well until you dumped me.” He looked at Ian agape and understood he had to give more details.

“Fuck a woman I mean. Going down town is hardcore, man, I ain’t never did that shit.” Ian’s smile was a little shy. Or sad maybe? He looked at mickey from his position on his lap and took a deep breath.

“You know I wasn’t manic, right? When I came with you to the border, I wasn’t having an episode.” Mickey closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the effects of the drugs rescinding suddenly.

“’t’s alright, ‘t’s in the past.”

“No, Mick, I want you to know, when I decided to come with you, I wasn’t manic. I made an informed decision that I thought through. I wanted to come with you. Up to the border, I wanted it and I was so sure I would. And then I fucking pussied out.” Ian held his breath, until he saw his husband open his eyes and look at him with a warm and sweet smile. He’d understood what Ian wanted to say, and most likely why, too.

“Realising I’d never see you again, and my mom dying, that’s what sent me down the rabbit hole.”

“And straight to Gay fuckin’ Jesus!” Ian half-heartedly punched Mickey’s arm but couldn’t help and laughed with Mickey at the souvenir of how much he lost his shit that time. This had been a painful topic for years, but not anymore. He’d learned to live with his mistakes, to look back at them for what they were. And that whole gay Jesus was an embarrassment. Seeing Mickey laughing at it made it even lighter. Ian didn’t find it hard to laugh at it too.

Another comfortable silence fell between them. They took the opportunity to undress and slip between the sheets, naturally folding into place, snuggled together. The big spoon and the little spoon, without even thinking it. Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand as soon as he felt it hovering his stomach, intertwining their fingers and pulling it up to his mouth, touching it to his lips but not kissing, no need for that. He shifted his head to let Ian take his rightful place, nose buried in the crook of his neck.

“Where d’you think we’d be right now if I’d come with you to Mexico?” Ian’s voice was muffled by the skin of Mickey’s neck, the vibrations of it tickling his hair.

“Wherever we’d be would be worse than here and now, babe. We wouldn’t have Yev, or Bernie, or Mon.” Mickey felt Ian smile against his skin.

“Or Bob.”

“Fuck Bob!”

*

Mickey felt a poking at his shoulder. In his sleepy daze, he figured out it was the cat. The furry shithead having apparently made it his life mission to wake him, trip him or scratch him at the worst possible time. The pocking kept going bringing him into semi consciousness. Enough to hear a small voice calling him.

“Daddy, I’m sick. Daddy, daddy.”

Mickey wondered for a moment how this comment fit into his dream. Then took another moment to realise he couldn’t remember his dream. And another moment to address the fact that the cat wasn’t speaking. All these moments might have lasted minutes or maybe seconds, but from the moment his brain scrambled out of limbo enough to put two and two together, he jolted awake.

And sure enough, Monica was standing on the side of the bed, eyes tired, looking ghastly, and oh joy of parenthood, clearly smelling of spew.

Mickey was fully awake now, jumping out of bed, grabbing, and pulling up his boxers in one swift expert move. When you insist on sleeping naked and you’re a parent, you learn to literally jump into clothes at any time in any circumstances. Both he and Ian knew it.

He was onto his daughter in a matter of seconds, instinctively bringing his hand flat to her forehead.

“What happened, Pumpkin?” He whispered.

“I got sick, daddy. I threw up and I pooped liquid and my tummy hurts.”

“Ok, come on, let’s not wake up papa,” he whispered. They exited the room in silence and went straight to the girl’s room to change her pyjamas. She had managed to reach the bathroom in time and Mickey silently thanked her for that, not in any mood to be changing the bed in the middle of the night. Once his daughter changed, he pulled her in his armed and grabbed her pyjies and the towel he used to clean her in the other hand and headed down the stairs. Yeah, maybe, the 10-year-old girl didn’t need to be carried down to the living room, even sick. Maybe Mickey just needed to feel her close to him, maybe he needed to remember her as this beautiful tiny shrimp like human being that had now turned into this amazing girl. This amazing girl that was sick and that needed all the love he had right now. So, he carried her down the stairs and kissed her forehead before he delicately dropped her on the couch and pulled a comforter up to her chin.

“How you feelin’?” again, he brought a hand to her forehead, assessing fever. Force of habit, not sure why he’d do it as his next move was to get into their medicine cabinet and look for the thermometer and adequate medicine.

Monica had fever which meant she had to go to the doctor the next day. In the meantime, he’d have to make her comfortable. He helped her take some meds with a glass of water, grabbed the bucket from the cleaning supply place under the kitchen stairs, quickly pulled Ian’s hoody, that he found hanging on the couch over his head. He sat and pulled his daughter, so her head was resting on his laps, replaced the comforter properly above her and stroked her hair until she went back to sleep. He looked at her for a while in the relative darkness of their living room. He checked that the bucket was at hand reach if need be and allowed him self to dose off, his hand still stuck in the fire mane of his fiery daughter.

And that’s exactly how Ian found his husband and daughter the next morning when he came down the stairs. A quick assessment of the situation got him all the answers he needed. The tall man bent over the couch and delicately hovered his lips over the stubble of the sleeping man’s jaw. He slipped his hand under the hoody and started to gently stroke at the skin where his misspelled name was tattooed. The sweet movement woke Mickey up, he opened his tired eyes and looked at his gorgeous husband from below.

“Moni’s sick?”

“Yeah, had a fever last night.” He uttered in a yawn. This made Ian smile a little and somehow love him even more.

“You got the meeting with the 900 shops this afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah, fuck!”

“’T’s alright, love. Go back to bed, I’ll take Monica to the doctor and keep her with me today. Just need to let Kev know.” Mickey shifted his head and pulled Ian by grabbing him by the nape of the neck. Their lips met in a Spiderman kiss that might have gotten heated if the girl still sleeping on Mick’s laps hadn’t woken up in a fit of cough which turned into vomiting into the bucket that Mickey had literally teleported under her. Parenthood at its most. Yet, none of the men now attending to Monica would give that away for all the riches in the world.

Mickey made his way up the stairs letting Ian take care of their daughter. He needed rest. And Ian had told him to get some.

The doctor had prescribed some more medication and ordered home rest with someone to check on the girl’s hydration and to also avoid contact with others as much as possible to avoid spreading the bug around. Nothing that phased Ian, really. Sure, his EMT training gave him the technical knowledge to understand what the doctor was saying. But kidding aside, after raising three kids, both men knew exactly what was happening and what to do.

“How you feelin’ kitten?” He asked Monica once in the car. She nodded, she seemed tired but less sick.

“Ok, we’ll get you home and fed and then you can rest.” She unconsciously gagged at the idea of being fed, her stomach still in rambles. Ian recognised yet another of Mickey’s expression on her face at that moment. Every time he spotted one of those on his daughter, something bloomed inside of him. Like, somehow this proved she was Mickey’s too. He had not wanted to speak about it to Mick, not seeing the point of reminding him that technically she wasn’t hundred percent his. He said it to Lip, though. His brother had laughed for a while before he described how Yevgeny was his spitting image even though he was not genetically his son. They had spent a few hours and countless Redbulls detailing the way Yev was smiling just like him, walking just like him, even the way he was pouring his coffee in the morning had a Ian Gallagher vibe all over. From that point forward, Ian had scrutinised his kids. Indeed, seeing parts of himself in Yev, Mick in Monica. And somehow, Carl in Bernie.

“Oh, I forgot! I have a gift for Daddy in the trunk, you’ll be ok if we quickly drop it off at the agency?” Monica nodded with a smile. Ian thought for a second for the best course of action, but truth was, he really wanted Mick to have his gift as soon as possible and risking exposing some people to Moni’s bug wasn’t such a big deal in his mind. Not really mature, he knew, and yet, the idea of making his husband happy was stronger. He laughed to himself thinking he would just send his daughter to Lip’s office. After all his brother owed them after the last time Fred gave the flu to the whole family. Decision made.

“Daddyyyy!” The girl shouted as she ran to Mickey and jump in his arms.

“What’s up, pumpkin? Feelin’ better?” Ian had run after her to try and stop her before she jumped on her dad and had failed.

“She’s contagious, Mick.” The other man delicately dropped his daughter on her feet.

“Why you brought her here then?”

“I wanted to see you; I have something for you.” He smiled.

“And it couldn’t wait until tonight?” He returned the smile suit.

“I guess it could.” Mickey chuckled and turned to his daughter.

“Go say hi to uncle Lip, and no need to tell him you’re sick, hmm!?” The girl ran to Lip’s office slamming the door behind her.

“Finally got him back for that fuckin’ flu Fred gave us.” Mickey chuckled as Ian told him he had thought the same thing on the way in. Not sure great minds think alike, but soul mates definitely do.

“She seems better,” Mickey said while crossing the room to meet his husband.

“Hmm, the doc gave her some meds, they’re kicking in.” He handed the carefully hand wrapped gift to a surprised Mickey.

“What’s the occasion?” The tall man just shrugged and watched his husband open the square box containing the framed picture of Mickey, Pablo and his mother.

When Ian inadvertently found the picture buried under a pile of ammo magazines in the brunette’s office, he knew what he had to do with it. He decided to frame it so Mickey could put it up in his office, or even in their bedroom if he wanted.

Ian had thought about it for a while, wondering if he should get mad at the other man for hiding the picture. Or even for having the picture in the first place. He considered what it meant for them, for him, for Mickey.

After Mickey came back from Mexico, and after he was done losing his shit, they had spoken. No, no, more accurately, Mickey had spoken, and he had listened. Mickey had been willing to speak and he had been willing to listen.

Ian knew. He knew that Pablo had been good to Mickey. He knew that the outcome of both their lives might have been very different if it wasn’t for that man.

And as much as Mickey kept telling him that it wasn’t true, and as much as he had pushed that to the back of his head, Ian had failed Mickey. And that could have very much been the end of them.

At first, his young and impetuous self had been jealous of Pablo. But he grew up, matured enough to understand that this part of Mickey’s story was important, and beautiful and was part of what made him the amazing man he was today. Or so he thought. But when Mickey left to go take care of Pablo, he lost it. His past coming back crashing in his face. His fears engulfing him all over again. Certain that Mickey would never come back to him. Why would he come back? What could Ian offer, that would make Mickey come back to him?

He hadn’t seen it coming and now that they’d gone through so much shit, Ian thought he owed it to his husband to show him that he trusted him, he trusted himself, and that he understood why he had to go. Of course, he understood.

Mickey tore through the wrapping paper, wondering what the gift was. They had grown accustomed to tiny attentions like that. Be it him offering flowers or these new running shorts Ian had seen, or Ian getting him his favourite dessert or a new tie. So, he wasn’t surprised to receive a gift.

The gift itself was the fucking surprise! Mickey looked at the framed picture of him, Pablo and his mother. The picture he had taken because none of Pablo’s family wanted it. The picture he had taken because it reminded him of the first time, he was finally allowed to think of himself, a time someone had made him feel safe and happy too when he thought he was doomed.

He had hidden the picture because he didn’t want Ian to feel bad or to feel threaten. He knew his husband was doing his best to understand. He was doing his best to accept.

Ian was holding his husband in his arms before the first tear dropped off Mickey’s chin. They stood there, breathing slowly. Breathing each other. No words. There wouldn’t be any on that topic. The frame would end up on Mickey’s desk, amongst pictures of the two of them, and pictures of the kids. It would never be spoken of again, no need.

*

Mickey was reading a magazine at the counter while Ian was cooking, both sharing a beer, drinking directly in the bottle. They’d taken the habit to spend some quality time every night. Sometimes Mickey was cooking, sometimes it was Ian. Sometimes Mickey was watching Ian cooking while reading a magazine, sometimes it was Ian (although he was reading a book, not a magazine). They had already set the table for them, their two daughters and Nina, Bernie best friend. Yev being at Uni. Just thinking about that while he was grabbing the correct amount of cutlery, Mickey couldn’t stifle a smile. He looked up and saw Ian looking at him, a smile on his face too. Was he thinking about the same thing? Maybe, probably. The tall man grabbed his wrist softly and let it go when Mickey moved back to the counter, away from the touch. It was nothing more than pure affection. It was them.

“Love,”

“Uhm?” Mickey raised his eyes (and eyebrows)

“Diner’s ready, you call the girls?”

“GiRRrRrlZ!”

“Mickey, come on. Move your ass up the stairs!” Mickey huffed and got up clearly faking outraged annoyance.

He knocked on Monica’s door before opening. His daughter was on her bed playing on her Switch.

“Come on pumpkin, drop the game, diner’s ready.” The pre-teen huffed and got up, not trying to push her luck, she needed it for later when she would tell them she failed her math test.

“And wash your hands!” As soon as his daughter exited the room, he grabbed the game, well decided to play it after diner. He put it in the back pocket of his jeans and went to Bernie’s room. The music playing inside the room was loud enough to hear from the corridor. Thank fuck they had the same tastes; she wasn’t listening to that sissi shit Ian and Yev were listening to. Fucking techno, or dance, or electro, or whatever the fuck. He had to make sure he’d get Mon on his side too. Not an easy task as he knew for a fact Ian had already conditioned her a little. The secret war of getting the kids on their side. It felt domestic as fuck. Mickey loved it.

He got to the room, knocked and opened the door.

Ian was setting the plate of chicken wings, potatoes and spinach (because vegetable!) on the table when he heard a commotion in the form of his husband screaming.

“What the fuckin’ fuck!” He was down the kitchen stairs before Ian could even react. Waving his hands up and down and grimacing, his brows twitched so much, his lion’s wrinkle was deeper than usual.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

“The fuck happened Mick, you scaring me!”

“I just walk’d in on them, Fuuuck!” He was pacing in the kitchen, shrugging and waving his arms up and down, trying to get rid of whatever he’d seen as if it was a weight, heavy on his shoulders.

Ian stood there, mouth agape. Did his husband just say Bernie and Nina were having sex? Holy fuck, did he understand correctly? He didn’t really have time to process the information any further as Nina hurried down the living room stairs, very clearly dressed slap dashed, and hurrying out of the house.

“Hey, carpet-muncher!” Shit.

“Mister Gallagher, I…”

“Don’t fuckin’ Mr Gallagher me!” Mickey had gotten up and was about to join the scared girl in the living room. Stopped on the threshold by Ian, swiftly placing himself in front of the man. Mickey let Ian stop him but was still looking at the girl with that Milkovich glare that would scare even the craziest mobster. He pointed his F finger to the girl over Ian’s shoulder.

“You hurt my girl I fuck you up!”

“Mickey!” Ian actually pushed him back into the kitchen. “You don’t threaten to hit a teenage girl, Mick! Come on!”

“If she’s gonna be an asshole with Bernie, I fuckin’ put a hit on her tiny ass!” Ian was now holding Mickey against the counter, both men fighting for dominance, they didn’t see Bernie come down the kitchen stairs. She pushed her papa and stood right in front of her dad, heavily dropping her hands his shoulders.

“Dad, you can’t threaten everyone I get involved with.” She was calm and confident.

“Why not!?”

“And you can’t threaten to hit a girl!” Mickey huffed but calmed down. He got out of her gentle hold and sat at the table.

“I know, not stupid, I’d send Debbie!” Bernie huffed at that, knowing her aunt wasn’t any less of a threat.

Ian came back from calming Nina and sending her back home, promising Bernie would call her later. He stood back watching the exchange with love.

Father and daughter were silent for a short while.

“You’d really fuck up someone that’d hurt me?”

“’Course, in a heartbeat.” Ian came sit next to them, mechanically grabbing Mickey’s hand.

“Him too,” her dad said throwing his chin at the tall man gingerly looking at his daughter.

“Really?”

“Of course, why d’you think we keep the bat handy!” All three of them laughed. Ian was happy to have diffused the situation with this crappy joke. It worked!

Nonetheless, he felt they had to address the situation. But maybe later. Might not be the best idea to push Bernie to speak to them tonight.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’re a lesbian?” Or maybe, let’s just do that right here and there. Fuck Micky!

“’Coz I don’t know that I am, dad.”

“What d’you mean you don’t kn… You were literally head deep into a vagina not 15 minutes ago, pretty sure that qualifies as fuckin’ lesbian!”

“Mick, come on! Maybe she needs to explore stuff a little further. It took you time to understand who you were, if I remember well!”

“Took me long to accept who I was, not understand it.”

The brunette girl fluffed her hair. A tell-tail that she was thinking about what to say next.

“Dad, I don’t know for sure what I am, and I want to find out by myself, with no pre-defined concepts. I just need to find the answers on my own.”

Mickey looked at the beautiful woman his daughter was becoming, and he knew right in that instant that she was going to be alright.

“’K. Look, I ain’t gonna pretend I understand all that shit. But you’re safe. You know you’re safe, here, right?” She jumped in his arms, didn’t reply. Why waste the moment with words when gesture spoke tones.

“If you need to talk to someone about it, I can ask Trevor.’” Ian offered, knowing that as much of a safe environment they had built for their kids, sometimes they needed to confide in someone else, to have an outsider’s perspective. And it was alright.

“Fuck no!” Of course. Ian and Bernie smiled at the outburst.

“Mick, it’s her decision and it’s his job.”

“It’s alright papa. I didn’t keep it for me because I thought I couldn’t tell you guys. I kept it for me, because I don’t have much to speak about yet.”

A few months later, Bernie would go to meet Trevor, to ask him questions and meet people she could relate to.

And it was alright, and she was safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think?   
> Please comment and kudo me, I'm a sucker for it!
> 
> Also, I'm working on a new project, hoping to post soon... Yyay!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for all the sadness but it gets better, I promise!


End file.
